The Crown of Stones: Magic-Price (53 page)

I fixed my sights on the island. Slowing my breathing, I called to the fire agate on my wrist. I opened up, but didn’t pull it in. First, I closed my eyes and dove into the space where Sienn Nam’arelle rested inside me. Making use of her essence and her knowledge, I integrated my intent with the channel. I envisioned winding them together, so that as I narrowed one, the other complied. Then I let the agate in.

Choking the path, compressing the aura’s entryway to more than a slender rivulet, I kept the flow of power to a trickle. The act wasn’t overly difficult. It was frustrating. Siphoning an infinitesimal stream, when I was used to drowning in it, fell drastically short of the invigorating experience I was familiar with.

I suppose, though, that was the point. Lessening the physical reaction definitely made casting a lot less appealing. I could hardly even feel the magic in me. I wasn’t even sure I had enough, but I clamped off the current anyway and moved on to the next step: casting outside my blood-bound abilities.

I had the stones. The spells weren’t a problem. Those I could glean from Sienn’s memories. The only real hurdle was me.

Coming from a more personal source than most other lines, a soldier’s magic was reflexive, instinctive, and emotional. It was wrapped in pretty much
every negative or base sentiment and behavior there’s a name for. Aggression, defiance, pride, lust, anger, bravado, brutality, vengeance, and more, were all a part of me and my craft. But they had no place in other kinds of magic. If I wanted to move beyond the limitations of my line, I had to expel them. I had to relinquish who I was.

For help, I dug deep into Jarryd’s soul. I tapped into the well-honed sense of absorption and rapt focus that dominated his skill with a bow. I employed his strong sense of commitment and devotion, using it to isolate myself from the more selfish aspects of my personality. His ability to see to the heart of things became mine.

From Sienn, I acquired her knack for curtailing emotion when she cast and used it to inhibit my own.

Then, with the three of us united inside me, I breathed. Taking in Jarryd’s single-mindedness, his diligence and drive to excel with each inhale, as I exhaled I used Sienn’s tactic and released everything. Every emotion I draw upon when I pull a sword or cast a battle spell—hostility, rage, passion. I shed it all.

The discharge was unbelievably quick and easy. In seconds I was clean. Blank. Unpolluted. I stared at Kabri’s beach and my perception of the world was drastically heightened. All I had to do was give attention to the torches sticking out of the sand and they became instantly tangible. I was an ocean away, and the wood against my skin was course. The fibers of the cloth were scratchy. Heat seared my skin. I breathed and the pitch was pungent.

I condensed my awareness down to a single torch. I wrapped my will around the fire, and it didn’t burn me. There was no pain. It was a different kind of discomfort. The flames were spirited and volatile, akin to closing my hand over a swarm of angry bees.

It wasn’t something I wanted to hold onto for long.

Visualizing the outcome, I cast. I felt a jolt, a stinging pulse of hot energy that jumped and flitted frantically across my nerves.
Like bees
, I thought, gasping.

There was an odd sensation. I opened my eyes and the aura was bleeding out of me. I was used to that. But I wasn’t used to a portion remaining inside, while the rest stretched and twisted away from me like a translucent length of magical rope.

The aura reached across the water to the beach.

The end made contact with the torch, connecting us.
Like a bridge,
I thought.

I put my hand out and felt the flames in my grip. I squeezed. Sparks flew out from the top. Burning embers sailed into the darkening sky. Without direction, they fell harmlessly to the wet sand and snuffed out of existence.

It worked
, I thought. But I wasn’t done.

Broadening my focus to include every torch on the beach, the rope sprouted branches and attached me to them. I opened and clenched my hand then, and as before, flames leapt. Only, this time, I held on. I aimed the fires in my grasp and sent them soaring with a
whoosh
onto the tops of the tents. Flames consumed the fabric hungrily. Instant bedlam broke out across the Langorian campsite and I smiled to myself.

That’s more like it.

Opening my grip, I released the fire and the rest of the agate. There was a slight haze around the edge of my vision, but I wasn’t blind. I saw the rope vanish and the dusk blaze orange. I saw the schools of dead fish rise up to float on the water. I endured no loss of strength whatsoever and the sudden waves of hot vibrations that swept through me were gone by the time they even registered as pleasurable.

It was the most physically unsatisfying use of magic I had ever experienced.

Still, I couldn’t argue with the results. Channeling as an erudite was far less disruptive. I felt charged. Confident. I was ready to try my hand at harder spells. I just needed someone to aim at.

But he isn’t someone
, I thought tensely
. He’s my father.

Footsteps plodded over the dunes behind me. I gave them my attention a moment, but no sooner had I rested a hand on my sword, I realized who it was; Jarryd’s gait was as familiar as my own. I couldn’t sense him though. I shut him out before entering Neela’s room last night and had yet to let him back in. The embarrassing, sordid details of my encounter with her aside, I didn’t think it wise to keep our connection open. With the coming fight (and our inexperience with the link), if one of us were injured, neither of us could afford the distraction.

Jarryd stopped beside me. He joined me in watching the silhouettes on the far shore scurrying about, trying to douse the flames. “I see you found something to do.”

“It’s better than listening to a bunch of generals debating strategy.”

“It was your strategy they were debating.”

“Maybe I should have been allowed to speak then.”

“Maybe, you shouldn’t have walked out.”

“I swear I’ve never seen a woman argue the same point so many different ways.”

“Neela’s good for that.” Jarryd sat down on the sand.

Glancing at him, I started to ask if the meeting was over. Then I got a look at what he was wearing. Dressed in the formal garb of a Lead Archer in the Rellan Guard, Jarryd was a new man. “I thought she was kicking you out,” I said skeptically, “not promoting you.”

He spread his arms. “What do you think?”

I didn’t answer right away. Outwardly, it was impressive. His deep blue, fitted tunic and breeches were made of exceptionally fine leather to allow ease of movement. His boots, soft-soled and lightweight, each displayed a built-in sheath and dagger running up the outside. The front of his tunic boasted an elaborate rendition of the Arcana crest stitched with silver thread on a black background. A smaller version of the design ran down both sleeves. On his back were buckles, empty now, but perfectly position to hold a nice-sized quiver of arrows.

The garments were beautiful and functional. And with a thin, shiny steel brace gracing one arm and a supple, black, three-fingered glove covering his opposite hand, Jarryd’s transformation was daunting. He was born for the bow. Now, he looked the part, and I should have been happy for him. But hearing Jarryd vow to fight for his home, and seeing him ready to die for it, were two different things.

“A little flimsy for battle,” I said at last.

Jarryd grunted like he’d expected that. “Liel’s back,” he said, quickly changing the subject. “He delivered your message.”

“And?”

“And I still think you should have let me do it. Reth could have killed him.”

“Yeah, well Reth
would
have killed you. Was there a reply?”

“Your father agreed to see you, alone, tonight, like you wanted. Details are in here.” Jarryd handed me a slip of paper. “Since you’ve been playing in the sand all afternoon, I assume you don’t know that Neela went back to Kabri.”

Shock raised my voice. “She did what?”

“The Queen wants to be on her throne the moment Langor surrenders.”

“Goddamn it,” I muttered. “When?”

“A few hours ago. Sienn opened a door for her.”

I clenched the paper in my hand.
Of course she did.
“What the hell was Neela thinking? If she’s discovered…” I left off. All sorts of images ran through my head at the thought of her and danger. None were helpful. “You couldn’t talk her out of it?”

“Neela knows it’s risky. She doesn’t need me to tell her.”

“No. She needed you to stop her.”

“She took guards,” he said angrily, guilt pricking at his temper. “And Neela knows that castle better than any Langorian. She’ll hide until our forces arrive. Which,” he added meaningfully, “will be
after
the crown is in your possession.”

“Good,” I nodded. “At least she used her head in something.”

“Only when Aldous forced her hand. He threatened to take his men home.”

“Looks like the General found a piece of his spine on the trip from Kael.”

“Nah.” Jarryd threw a handful of sand at the water. “He’s just worried about his own skin.” He picked up another handful and tossed it. “I saw Sienn just now. I really like how you managed to make both women stop talking to you on the same day.”

“One of my many talents.”

He grinned a little, but the expression didn’t last. “The attack will commence after you open the link and give me the all clear. Sienn will raise a fog as cover and freeze the water’s surface so the troops can cross. It’s unlikely our advance will go entirely undetected, but with her aid there will be an advantage gained.”

“Did you notice?” I nodded at Kabri. “No eldring.”

“Our scouts report that none have been seen on the island in two days. I want to think that means we caught a break, but,” he tossed me a glare, “I’ve got you in my head saying it sounds too easy.”

“Let’s hope I’m wrong.”

Jarryd strained the sand through his fingers a moment. “We received terms for surrender. I didn’t get a look at them, but I heard Neela sent the pages back in pieces.”

“Nice touch.”

“Yeah. But I know her, Ian. If this goes badly, Neela will sign.” Concern tightened the scar on his face. “And the new terms will be far worse.”

“If this goes badly none of us will be alive to care.”

“I want to go with you,” he said then.

“To see my father? No way.”

“After you defeat him you’ll be in a city full of enemies with no strength to fight. You’ll need protection.”

Slow, deliberate, and precise, I said, “You aren’t coming with me.”

“I know where you’re going. I read the message. I could follow you.”

“We both know you have more sense than that.”

Jarryd’s teeth clenched. “You can’t do this alone.”

I’m not alone
, I thought. “This is my responsibility. Jem Reth is my father.”

“And you’re my friend. And Kabri is my home.”

“Then take it back. Besides, you’re mostly dressed for it. Just don’t forget that sword I put on your saddle. Or rather, my saddle. You’re taking Kya.”

“Ian…”

“I borrowed the sword off an Arullan, but it’s got good weight and balance.”

“I told you this morning. I don’t need a sword. Or your horse.”

“I put a mail shirt in your pack. If you can stand plate, that’s even better.”

Jarryd groaned. “I thought we settled this.”

“If you haven’t digested my memories of the war yet, do it now. Analyze every battle before you step foot across that water. And keep to the rear as long as you can. I don’t care what your orders are.”

“That much is clear.”

“Damn it,
Nef’taali
, you’ve never seen anything like this. Neela has near four thousand men. Draken has over five. There will be no time to think or second-guess. React. Breathe. Fight. That’s all you can do. Fight and stay alive. You got that?”

“Yeah.” Jarryd nodded a moment in thoughtful silence. He stood and brushed the sand off his breeches. Glancing up and down the beach, he
fidgeted with the brace on his arm a few times. He turned the archers ring on his finger, round and round.

“Spill it,” I said.

“I can’t stay here,” he blurted out. “When this is over, I have to leave Kabri.”

Shame pressed in on me. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know.” Jarryd stared down at his palm, tracing the lines with his finger. “I guess I go where you go now. It would feel strange to put distance between us.”

“That it would,” I nodded. “Any place in particular you want to go?”

“What do you say we ride up into Langor and pay Malaq a visit?”

“Sounds good. We can help him give Draken a push.”

Jarryd’s face brightened. “Down the stairs?”

“I was going to say off the throne. But I like your idea better.”

“So, Langor then?” he said hopefully.

“Sure.”

Jarryd turned to head back up the beach. He paused. “I’ll see you in Kabri.”

“Be safe,
Nef’taali
. I mean it.”

“You too.” He seemed a little nervous, but as he moved off, Jarryd gave me his typical, crooked grin. And I tried like hell to believe that it wasn’t for the last time.

FIFTY

I
jumped out of the boat and into the water. It was high tide. My splashes sounded like thunder as I sloshed through the waves, dragging the small craft behind me onto the shore. I didn’t bother concealing it. My father knew I was coming. His note said this side of the island had been cleared of patrols for the night. He claimed it was to prevent some unwitting soldier on rounds from accosting me. A more simple explanation was that he didn’t want the Langorians to know we were meeting.

Bonded to Draken or not, Reth had his own agenda.

Nevertheless, it appeared he kept his word. If troops were lurking though, I couldn’t see them. In the time it took to row across to the island, storm clouds had moved in, making the darkness absolute.
Langorian dark,
I thought grimly.

It was a foreboding notion. One I tried to shake as I held my lantern up and walked a ways down the beach. The stroll was difficult. All manner of things had washed up and debris was everywhere. Some of the pieces were charred and weed-choked. Others were battered and sun-bleached. An uncomfortable number were suspiciously body-like in shape, and I avoided them earnestly.